


Five Times Everybody Saw It

by bluebeholder



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Forehead Kisses, Public Display of Affection, Romantic Fluff, Sharing Clothes, brief kink mention in part 5, shipper friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29264940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: ...and the one time nobody did.Pure fluff, from start to finish.
Relationships: Female Adaar/Solas (Dragon Age)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Five Times Everybody Saw It

**Author's Note:**

> Working on a tragedy (and any romance involving Solas _is_ a tragedy) requires a palate-cleanser. Hence this unrepentant fluff! I hope you all enjoy. :D
> 
> Brief mention/implication of blood kink in part 5. Solas is dating a reaver: what does anyone expect?

**One:**

“Are you seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Dorian asks Varric in an undertone.

Varric eyes the head of the table “If you’re seeing Chuckles wearing the boss’s shirt, you’re seeing what I’m seeing.”

Dorian laughs quietly. “What an event.”

Solas is indeed wearing Kubide’s shirt. It is entirely too large for him, rolled up around his elbows and tied with a scarf at the waist. Only a few others are in the mess just now, and no one is paying much mind. Dorian’s rather glad of that. This seems a  _ bit  _ private, to be seen by all of Skyhold.

“Kind of sweet,” Varric says meditatively.

“Isn’t it?” Dorian reflects that he’d only heard of acts like this spoken of wistfully by people who had too much decorum to do it. Dorian, regrettably, is in that number. He thought Solas was, too.

“The big question is where  _ his _ clothes went.”

Dorian starts to reply when the shirt’s owner comes in the door. She is dressed (or, well, partly dressed, their fearless leader doesn’t really believe in modesty) for a morning workout, looking _ disgustingly  _ awake and too cheerful for this time of morning. Somehow, Dorian is completely unsurprised when Kubide ignores him and Varric, instead heading straight for Solas.

He can’t hear what she says at this distance. But the way Kubide leans down with a hand on Solas’ shoulder to speak close to him, and the way Solas smiles when he looks up, a soft expression Dorian has never seen him wear, are very telling. He knew they were bedding each other, of course, but...

“I’ll be damned,” Varric says, as if he were thinking the same thing. “I thought this wouldn’t last.”

“It  _ may  _ be coincidence,” Dorian says, for the sake of the argument. He watches Kubide sit down. Solas leans against her, and doesn’t say a word when she takes a piece of bacon directly off his plate. Instead, smiling despite his obvious exasperation, he pushes his plate toward her. It’s a fondness that seems out of place for their standoffish mage and hard-edged Inquisitor. “Then again...”

“Then again is right.”

Even as more people wander into the mess, Kubide and Solas never _ do  _ seem to notice that they have an audience.

  
  


**Two:**

“When are we gonna get there?” Sera asks. 

Blackwall pauses in idle whittling to glance at Sera, sitting wrapped in her blanket near the campfire. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

“Pfffft. You’re no fun.”

He returns to whittling. It’ll be a cat, probably. Blackwall hasn’t quite decided yet. “I’m not the one with the map. Ask Her Ladyship.”

“Do not,” Solas cuts in quietly. “Ask tomorrow.”

Again, Blackwall pauses. Can’t she speak for herself? When he looks up, though, he sees. 

Kubide and Solas have been joined at the hip for a while now. It doesn’t bother Blackwall. Especially since they’re not usually sugary about it.  _ This,  _ though...

Earlier, Kubide dropped down and put her head in Solas’ lap, making some joke about needing a pillow. The kind of thing Sera’s said to Cassandra, or that Vivienne has quietly done with Bull once or twice. No one here minds affection.

Blackwall’s never seen anyone stroke anyone else’s hair like that, just between friends. 

“You two are  _ awful _ ,” Sera declares, in a slightly quieter tone.

Solas doesn’t stop carefully stroking Kubide’s hair. “We are.”

“You can’t just _ agree  _ with me,” Sera says. “You’re supposed to argue that you’re not, or something.”

“I know what you mean and I do agree with you.” Solas looks down at Kubide with a faint smile. “She would, too.”

Sera sighs. “Shit. You’re no fun  _ either. _ ”

There’s space for a joke there, but Blackwall decides not to make one. Instead, he returns to his whittling while Sera rolls herself up in her blanket to fall asleep properly. Let the lovebirds have their privacy. 

  
  


**Three:**

Cullen takes the offered hand and lets the Inquisitor—apparently effortlessly—pull him back to his feet. She is breathing hard, which counts for something. He  _ did  _ put up a good fight. And her grin summons a reluctant smile to Cullen’s face.

“Best three out of five?” Kubide asks, leaning on the heavy wooden practice sword standing in for her real weapon.

“No, I think you’ve proved your point,” Cullen says, stooping to pick up his shield.

“It’s good for the troops to see their commander have the shit kicked out of them once in a while,” Kubide says. 

Cassandra comes to join them, carrying her own practice sword and shield. “ _ Humbled _ may be the better term,” she says.

Kubide laughs. “Comes out to the same thing.”

They  _ do _ have an audience. Seeing one of the Inquisition’s elite practicing is no great event, but having them put on an impromptu exhibition is a bit different. Cullen thought Kubide might take it easy on him, but he should have known better. Their uncomfortably realistic practice bout (and its second round) attracted quite the crowd. 

“I do think this is a teaching moment,” Cullen muses. “Tactics against a far larger and more physically powerful opponent.”

“Not only that, but it could be a valuable lesson on fighting beside someone who can take advantage of the opponent’s weak spots.” Cassandra raps her sword against Kubide’s hip pointedly.

Kubide winces. “I  _ did _ leave a lot of openings. Let me get a drink first and then...“

She stops, looking over Cullen’s head. He follows her gaze and sees Solas standing by the wall. He’s watching, and gives a nod when Cullen makes eye contact.

“Be right back,” Kubide says. She hands her sword to Cullen and strides off, right for Solas. Whatever words they exchange are too quiet to hear, but everyone in the yard sees Kubide bend down to kiss Solas on the forehead. 

“I didn’t know the man could  _ blush _ ,” Cullen says, dumbfounded, turning to Cassandra.

She’s watching with a faint smile. “I think it’s sweet.”

Cullen would have to agree with that.

  
  


**Four:**

“I do think this is going well,” Josephine says in an undertone to Leliana.

Leliana surveys the crowd in the Great Hall. The three targets whose guest quarters are being searched at this very moment are participating in a reel dance, the newest fad from Ansburg, unaware that their invitations were a cover for quiet espionage. “It is,” Leliana says with a sideways glance. 

Josephine inclines her head just a little in acknowledgment. “I  _ also  _ find the company to be quite stimulating.” A slight gesture of a fan indicates Vivienne, introducing Grand Enchanter Fiona to the ambassador from Val Chevin. Never a dull moment here: this is also an event designed to smooth over concerns about mages brought up by an alliance of Orlesian nobility. 

“And the Inquisitor is doing quite well,” Josephine goes on. 

“She is that,” Leliana says. 

The Inquisitor is holding court in the corner, attended by a pair of Chevaliers, a trio of mages, and a sundry of minor dignitaries. Leliana has seen her, laughing and apologetic, refuse several dances on grounds of her height. That people have asked her is impressive in itself: the Inquisitor has charmed most guests in the room tonight. Incredible to see that she is in her element here tonight, when within the last year she was too uncomfortable to speak at any event where she could not have a sword in her hands. 

Vivienne’s carefully modulated laugh cuts through the crowd. Leliana and Josephine both turn—that is the cue of something out of the ordinary—to see Vivienne gesture without looking toward the door. 

“We can’t ban people from these, but I _ sometimes  _ wish we could,” Leliana says, watching Solas navigate the crowd toward the Inquisitor. No one else seems to notice him, in the clothes he’d worn to the Winter Palace (without, thank the  _ Maker, _ that hat). 

Josephine sighs. “I’ll go...handle this,” she says. She glides off to manage what’s about to be a terribly awkward incident.

Leliana remains in the shadows, observing. To anyone who was at the Winter Palace—and there are  _ several _ —they will see only the “elven manservant” cover. Until Solas inevitably breaks that cover, and the Inquisitor goes along with it.

It’s not that Leliana has any personal problems with them as a couple. Far from it, in fact. But, diplomatically, it’s a headache. Convincing people to accept a Qunari Inquisitor was hard enough before she began an affair with an apostate elf of dubious history. Tonight is about charming these people, not causing scandal. 

Solas gets to the Inquisitor before Josephine. Leliana has no idea what he says, stretching up to speak as she leans down, but whatever it is turns her face dark and visibly embarrassed, but smiling. 

And then Josephine is there, saying something to placate the shocked looks of the people around. Leliana watches as the Inquisitor speaks to them, then takes Solas’ hand and follows him into the dancing, which is a more usual partnered dance than the earlier reel. It appears they’ve practiced: the difference in heights seems to make no trouble for either. They have eyes only for each other.

Leliana exchanges a look with Vivienne. She’d expected open disapproval, but instead there’s only a faint, wistful smile. How much, Leliana wonders suddenly, does this remind Vivienne of her first days as the Duke’s mistress? What could—perhaps  _ should _ —have been a shameful affair made public, in defiance of all tradition? And one that remained happy and faithful through many years.

The Inquisitor and Solas do make a lovely couple.

  
  


**Five:**

“The Iron Bull,” Cole says, emerging from behind a tree, “does it really feel better to kiss someone after a fight?”

Well.

That’s  _ one _ way to start a conversation.

Bull wrenches his axe out of the demon he just killed—the last one standing—and looks down at Cole. “I mean, yeah? Dragons  _ really  _ do it for me.”

Cole peers up at him from under the brim of his hat, looking a little owlish and a lot confused. “Does blood really taste good to you?”

Pause.

“Kid,” Bull asks, “where are you getting these questions?”

Silently, Cole points behind Bull. Cautiously, already with an idea of what he’s gonna see, Bull turns to look. And yeah, there it is: the boss has Solas pinned to a tree, kissing him like her life depends on it.

“ _ Huh _ ,” he says, for lack of anything else.

“I don’t understand why they both think love and blood are the same thing,” Cole says. He doesn’t usually sound grumpy, but right now... 

“Look,” Bull says, “I feel like it’s a _ little  _ early for this conversation, but there’s people out there who have a lot of fun—“

Cole starts cleaning off his daggers. “I  _ don’t _ mean in bed,” he says. And wow,  _ that’s  _ grumpy. “I mean he likes it when she kills people and  _ I don’t understand _ .”

How in the fuck does he explain this to Cole? Kid only sees death as something that happens. An event. He doesn’t like fighting, he just does it. Really well.

“For one thing, she only goes after bad guys,” Bull says. “Which is hot, right? People like a hero. And she’s good at it. Makes it look easy.”

“It makes him passionate to see,” Cole says reluctantly. “And she is pretty.”

And if Bull thought the boss was the only one into this, he was  _ wrong _ . It looks like Solas is trying to get her clothes off. Right here and now. 

“How about you and I go clean up,” Bull says, turning Cole around and pushing him away. 

He really didn’t think Solas was the kind of guy into that stuff. 

More power to him.

  
  


**Plus One:**

Kubide’s favorite time of day comes in late evening. After it’s too dark to see, even with candles and lanterns, when the Frostback night goes cold, and when people start to retire. No one looks for her, then. She can quietly disappear.

It still sits wrong with her, that they gave her the largest single room in Skyhold, but lately she’s been glad of the privacy. Things have been hard. Quiet is welcome. And so is having a bed large enough for company.

Tonight, there’s just the candle burning beside the bed. The moons are both dark, which leaves the brilliant stars to shine through the windows unimpeded. In the quiet silver light, Kubide can see quite well. 

She isn’t bothering to  _ do  _ anything, though. Just, for a little while, rest. Leaning back on a few pillows, head against the headboard, half undressed, with Solas warm and comfortable in her lap. Well—almost, at least, when he’s more between her legs. His back presses against her chest, still and quiet, and his hand rests on her bare thigh. He’s so light, Kubide muses. If she hadn’t fought beside him she’d think him fragile. Like the delicate halla, whose grace hides immense strength. 

His book is still in his hands. Somehow, he’s apparently got enough light to read by. Or he’s just being stubborn, and pretending the night doesn’t bother him.

“We’re going to have to get you spectacles,” Kubide says.

“ _ Absolutely not _ .”

His voice sounds downright sleepy and she can’t help smiling. “If you keep straining your eyes like this in the dark...”

“I will be  _ fine _ .”

Gently, Kubide traces the tip of a claw around the shell of his ear, all the way up to the point. She gets a delightful shiver in return. Another shiver, when she bends to kiss the top of his head, his skin warm under her lips. “You would look handsome.”

“And there it is,” Solas says, closing the book and leaning across her leg to set it aside, “the real motive.”

“I don’t think you want to go  _ blind, _ kadan.”

“I will not go  _ blind _ .”

Kubide stretches a little, closing her eyes in a yawn. Solas moves a bit and when she looks down it’s to find him turned to face her, arms folded on her chest and chin resting on them as he gazes up. Starlight always does odd things to his face and tonight’s no exception. It turns him sharp and fine, eerie as a spirit, and makes his eyes look silver. 

“What would those proposed spectacles look like?” he asks with a smile.

And there goes her silly heart, skipping a beat at the unreserved fondness in his voice. She settles a hand on his lower back—marveling again at how she can almost span his back with one hand—and he relaxes immediately. “For you? I think round, with silver frames,” Kubide says. “You’d look refined. Well. If you did away with the sweater...”

Solas looks utterly betrayed. “I thought you  _ liked _ it!”

“I love it,” Kubide says, laughing. “You wouldn’t be you without it, kadan. It’s just not terribly...tailored.”

“ _ Hmph _ .” Despite the sound, he looks pleased anyway. “If I strain my eyes—which I doubt I will—I will certainly ask your opinion on the issue.”

Kubide smiles at him. “I should hope so.”

He rests his head on her chest then, over her heart. Kubide closes her eyes, just feeling. As much as Solas has relaxed, she feels her own body going too. And mind, finally getting drowsy. Of course. This only really happens at times like this, when she’s not alone.

Correction: when she’s alone with  _ Solas. _

It’s odd, a bit, to feel so safe like this. When she’s always the one hurling herself in front of Solas to keep him out of danger, it feels strange to get the sense that  _ he’s  _ protecting  _ her. _ But here she is. 

She’s starting to drift off. When Solas speaks, Kubide can’t quite open her eyes to look at him. 

“Rest, vhenan,” he whispers. “Let the Fade take you.”

Kubide doesn’t remember later if she managed to say good night or not.

But she  _ does _ remember her dreams in the morning, in a hazy way. She walked through a forest of towering trees, crowns so thick they blocked out the sun. It was silent and dark, but peaceful. And, among the trees, almost out of sight, a great wolf kept pace with her, and watched her with silver eyes. 


End file.
